


friendly favors

by theoneinquisitor



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 04:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneinquisitor/pseuds/theoneinquisitor
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke just like helping each other out, that's all. It's not like they like each other or anything. They're just friends, right?





	friendly favors

**Author's Note:**

> better known as three times Clarke and Bellamy owe each other, and the one time the favor is mutual.   
> prompt:routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing

i.

Clarke prides herself on being one hell of a friend. She’s done her fair share of good deeds over the years and has rightfully earned the nickname ‘mom’ (though Jasper is the only one who calls her that to her face). She’s constantly the one answering three am phone calls to pick up whoever it is that decides to drink a little too much or the one to call after a particularly nasty heartbreak. In fact, she’s even left a shift at the hospital early when Raven had gotten letter from fucking NASA and was scared to open it alone (she was accepted, of course).When it comes to them, the ones she loves, she’ll do anything.

It is this well-known fact that leads her to this moment, exactly how she ends up coming to a screeching halt in the parking lot of her best friend’s apartment complex and running inside with her med kit. The door is unlocked so she pushes her way in frantically and finds Bellamy sprawled out on the couch holding a bloody towel to his arm. She rushes over to him and he gives her a weak smile.

“Jesus, Bellamy,” she breathes as she pulls the injured arm towards her, “I thought you said it was a small cut?”

He winces as she peels the towel away, “It’s not that bad.”

By his definition, it isn’t. It’s not like he lost an entire limb, that is. It’s about three inches long and deep. Definitely needing stitches but also not life or death. Either way, seeing him bleeding out on his couch makes her heart rate increase a little more than normal.

“You need stitches,” she decides and begins digging into her kit for the proper tools.

“That’s why I called you,” he replies with a smirk and she fights the urge not to poke him with her needle. Leave it to him to cut himself open and act like it isn’t a big deal.

“They have emergency rooms for a reason,” she threads the needle carefully, and clips off the excess thread at the end.

“Yeah, but I have my own personal emergency nurse.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls on her rubber gloves, “And if I wouldn’t have answered?”

He winces again when she removes the towel completely and replaces it with gauze, putting more pressure than he believes necessary to make a point.

“I guess I would just bleed out on my couch and you’d have to feel guilty for ignoring me,” he smiles at her innocently enough, but this time she does apply a little extra pressure to his wound.

“Ow!” he jumps and she gives him a pointed look, “I’m sorry, okay. I just…I have a student-teacher conference in an hour and it’s important.”

She’ll take it as an excuse. He takes his teaching job so seriously, which is admirable, but sometimes he definitely over does himself. She spreads the numbing gel over the cut, hoping to be as gentle as possible. He remains still for the most part, talking idly about how he managed to cut himself accidentally while trying to cut into a pan of brownies. She has to stop for a moment to laugh, because imagining the well-composed and cocky Bellamy Blake cutting himself on a pan of brownies is too hysterical.

By the end of it, there are seven sutures and a blood covered arm, but the wound is closed and he’s alive.

“You’re the best!” he exclaims happily after examining her work. To her surprise he plants a quick kiss on her cheek and moves to get ready for his conference. She freezes for a moment, touching her cheek where there seems to be a lingering sensation.

“I owe you!” he calls and she can’t help but think he already paid.

ii.

She and Bellamy have had a friendship based on exchanged favors and assistance. They met in college while she worked at the writing center and he needed help writing a paper. He got an A on said paper (she’s a genius, but so is he, she learned) and felt he owed her one. Thus began their friendship. He’s become one of her best friends, especially since most of her of her other friends had dispersed around the country. By the time college ended, she and Bellamy were the only ones remaining in Chicago. Needless to say, they may have dependency issues.

But, he counts on her just as she does him. A month after stitching him up, she gets to cash in on her favor.

“You okay, Princess?” he asks as soon as he answers the phone. It’s become an unspoken rule that they only call for emergencies. Texting is their normal vehicle for communication.

“My car broke down,” she groans into the phone, feeling her pent up frustration coming to a head, “Normally, I’d take the train but it’s one in the morning and I’m fucking tired.”

She worked a double today and after spending half of it in the ER, she’s totally spent. This is just the cherry on top of an already shitty day.

“Give me fifteen minutes,” he grumbles into the phone and like magic, he’s there exactly when he says he’s going to be.

“Do you want me to take a look at it?” he asks when he pulls up and she shakes her head vehemently.

“Honestly, I don’t even care. I’m tired and it can wait until tomorrow.”

He laughs when she dramatically flops into the passenger seat, “You wanna just crash at my place? It’s closer at least. And we both know I’m going to be the one looking at it tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles. Her exhaustion catches up to her as soon as he puts the car in gear she finds herself half asleep as he carries her into his apartment (he was blessed with a first floor unit). Normally, she would insist on walking because her pride is far too fragile to be carried, but at this point it doesn’t matter.

He places her on top of his covers and she sinks into the mattress with a languid sigh.

“I owe you,” she tells him softly. His lips graze her cheek and she falls asleep with a smile on her face that night.

iii

It becomes weirdly routine like before she knows it. They do things for each other, make dinner, fix cars, arrange DVDs. Their random favors become everyday favors and each time one of them mentions owing one to the other, on instinct they jut out their cheek and wait for the familiar set of lips to press against it. It’s freakishly domestic.

Clarke isn’t the one that notices it. Bellamy’s sister comes into town for Thanksgiving Break and catches on to it instantly. They were hanging out in the kitchen, finsihing up the feast they had been cooking all day while the boys went to the store (crazy, but Clarke really wanted cranberries). She and Octavia were catching up on each others lives, having not seen each other since her move to North Carolina months ago with her boyfriend, Lincoln.

“You remember Harper, right?” Octavia is informing her on all their former college friends whereabouts, “She’s a Fulbright now. She’s in Germany.”

Clarke nods impressively as carves the turkey. She launches into another story and she can’t help but laugh at her friend. Octavia Blake has always been a gossiper.

“And what about you?” she tosses another bone in the trash can, “All this talk about other people, but what about you, O?”

Before she can answer, Bellamy and Lincoln shuffle into the kitchen with grocery bags. She watches has Bellamy shakes the snow from his unruly curls and gives her a grin.

“Gotta love being up North,” he comments, removing his coat. He walks over to her and hands her the can of cranberries she had so desperately wanted.

“I went ahead and scraped your car for you, too,” he informs her and, in retrospect it does seem like a broken record, leans against the counter next to her.

She says it without thinking, “I owe you one.”

She turns her cheek instinctively and he kisses it gently before beginning to lay out the dishes on his small dining room table. Nothing feels out of place until she glances over to find Octavia staring at her suspiciously.

“What?” she asks naively.

The younger Blake forgoes an answer and just grabs the cranberries from her hand and opens them. She doesn’t think much of it.

Until it happens again not an hour later. They finish their meals, but have lingered at the table to chat after Octavia’s announcement. They’re engaged! She spends an adequate amount of time fawning over the ring and talking wedding plans but at some point, she decides, she has to clear the table.

Bellamy and Lincoln are talking quietly and she finds herself surprised at Bellamy’s relaxed demeanor. After all, his baby sister is getting married. When she had first started dating, he had been a nightmare of a brother. She reaches over his shoulder to grab his plate, hoping not to interrupt the peace talk between the two men. He grabs at the plate and begins to stand.

“I got it,” she fusses and he sits down slowly handing it over.

“Thanks,” he says and this time it’s him who pushes his jaw out a little further. She reacts immediately, pecking him on the cheek and moving to the kitchen.

She manages to plant the dishes in the sink safely before Octavia corners her.

“What the hell, Clarke?” she hisses and pulls on her wrist meaningfully.

“What?”

The dark haired beauty rolls her eyes and pulls on her wrist again, “Don’t play dumb. You and my brother? How long has that been a thing?”

She widens her eyes innocently, “We’re friends, you know that.”

When it comes out of her mouth, she knows she’s lying. She’s spent a long time trying to convince herself that her and Bellamy are just friends. It was easier when they were dating other people. When all their friends still lived in town and they weren’t forced to be alone all the damn time. She can’t pinpoint the moment it changed. Somewhere along the line, for her at least, the feelings became a lot more. She’s tried dating in the past year with no luck, chalking it up to shitty people. However, now that she thinks about it, it’s because she spends every date comparing them to Bellamy. Fuck.

“I’m serious,” she argues again weakly and Octavia finally releases her wrist.

“Keep lying to yourself, Clarke.”

iv.

With all the holidays, avoiding Bellamy isn’t all that hard for her. After her conversation with Octavia, she finished out the day with them before excusing herself to the hospital. She’s never good at confronting her feelings, so removing herself from the situation always came as the best option for her. She throws herself into her work, picking up double shifts and fighting the urge to call him at any slight emergency. His side remains eerily calm as well. They still text daily, but no opportunity for favor arises. Christmas comes and goes and he asks her when she’s going to exchange gifts with him. His gift has been wrapped for months, a first edition anthology of his favorite Greek deities. She had been so excited to give it to him, but now it all seems daunting.

She’s in love with her best friend. She’s been in love with him for at least the past year, if not more. It didn’t happen intentionally, clearly since she hasn’t known it was happening at all. But now she has to reconcile with it. She could tell him and he could feel the same. Or she could tell him and risk losing his friendship. The thought alone nearly kills her. By the time she decides it’s best to Keep her feelings a secret and hope they dissipate over time, New Years rolls around and everyone is home for the occasion. She can’t exactly avoid this one.

But She can definitely drink to forget about it. Yes, she’s an adult and should be far beyond using alcohol as a crutch, but it is what it is. She’s on her third shot and singing along to the current karaoke tune with Jasper and Monty when Bellamy shows up.

“Couldn’t wait until I got here to start?” he says into her ear and she hates the way the hair on her neck stands up.

“You’re late,” she responds casually, although she feels far from casual. To her dismay, Jasper gets up from his seat to go request another song and Bellamy takes it without hesitation.

Suddenly she isn’t nearly drunk enough.

“Long time, no see, Princess,” he drums his fingers on the bar, something he typically only does when he’s nervous.

Before when can stop herself, she calls him out, “Something got you on edge?”

To her surprise, he doesn’t seemed fazed by it, “You. Being dressed like that.”

Is he flirting with her? Her head snaps around faster than she means it too, and he’s watching the live coverage of NYC with only the slightest of smiles on his face. She tries to play his game and brushes off the compliment.

“Please,” she scoffs, “I always knew you thought I was hot.”

“Think,” he corrects and signals the bartender who finally decided to look his way, “Think you’re hot.”

Her mouth falls open a little. While they’ve always been playful with one another, this is a whole new territory. He’s definitely flirting with her. What is she supposed to do? She spent an entire month overanalyzing everything in fear of losing him for good and he just waltzes in and puts it all on the line. Fuck it, she thinks. She doesn’t have anything to lose at this point.

“We’re just meant to be then, aren’t we?” she hopes her voice sounds steady because she sure as hell isn’t. It seems to get his attention because now his eyes are boring into hers.

She gives him a sweet smile, “Being two incredibly attractive and intelligent people that is.”

Before he can respond, the bartender finally stops to take his order.

“Two Jack and Cokes,” he says and hands over a ten.

“Trying to catch up?”

He grins mischievously, “One is for you.”

She pretends to be appalled, the flirtation getting easier and easier with each moment, “Bellamy Blake, are you trying to get me drunk?”

He doesn’t answer, he just slides her drink over to her and clinks his glass against hers. Out of habit, she leans over and he immediately offers her his cheek. She plants a sloppy kiss onto it before taking a long sip from her cup. No one had to say, ‘I owe you. Not this time.

They spend the rest of the night mingling amongst their friends, enjoying having everyone home for the first time months. It isn’t until the five minute countdown begins that he finds her again. She’s standing to the side, watching as Miller and Monty karaoke their favorite Rent song (Normally, Miller would never admit to enjoying a musical, but dating Monty had made him a huge softy), when he sidles up next to her and places a careful arm around her waist.

“I still owe you your Christmas present,” he says into her ear and offers her a beautifully wrapped package in his other hand.

She shakes her head at him shamefully, “I didn’t bring yours with me.”

He doesn’t seem to mind and hands her the package anyway. Monty and Muller have finished their song and gathered around the television with everyone else, leaving them secluded in the back of the bar. It all seems suddenly intimate.

He nudges her to go ahead and she pulls the paper off carefully revealing a sleek black box. When she pulls it open, she actually gasps. Nestled inside is a beautiful new stethoscope, one she had admired online months ago. She must have mentioned it to him without thinking.

“This was really expensive…” is all she can say, still trying to gather her composure.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

“Good bonus this year,” he says simply. When she finally looks at him, her heart nearly bursts in her chest. She fucking loves this man and at this point, hiding it would be useless.

He smiles down at her and gives a little tap to his cheek, waiting for her usual kiss of gratitude. She gives it to him, but instead of his cheek she grabs his face in her hands and crushes her lips to his. He responds immediately, gathering her up into his arms and making sure she knows that everything she’s felt, he’s felt to.

When they pull back, the crowd is cheering in the bar, their friends are cheering around them, and the clock reads 12:01am.

Hell of a way to start a New Year.


End file.
